


One Solitary, Mundane Moment

by Guardian_Rose



Series: A String Of Moments Makes A Life [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Can be read as gen I think, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Or As
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 16:36:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19113577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardian_Rose/pseuds/Guardian_Rose
Summary: Aziraphale watches Crowley swear under his breath as he awkwardly scrambles to stop a pile of books from falling to the floor. Crowley scowls at the offending books but still pats the top of the pile when it’s safely situated back on the table. Aziraphale, one hand holding his cup of cocoa halfway up to his lips, promptly loses all control over his own mind and blurts out a question he’d long ago sworn never to utter in Crowley’s direction or even his general presence.“Have you ever regretted it?”





	One Solitary, Mundane Moment

There’s a moment. One solitary, mundane moment where Aziraphale watches Crowley swear under his breath as he awkwardly scrambles to stop a pile of books from falling to the floor. Crowley scowls at the offending books but still pats the top of the pile when it’s safely situated back on the table. Aziraphale, one hand holding his cup of cocoa halfway up to his lips, promptly loses all control over his own mind and blurts out a question he’d long ago sworn  _ never _ to utter in Crowley’s direction or even his general presence. 

 

“Have you ever regretted it?”

 

Crowley startles, the reaction is minute, barely there but Aziraphale knows him. Has seen it before and will undoubtedly see it again. Crowley’s scowl stays. Aziraphale can almost see the demon’s eyes behind his glasses. It’s raining outside, no one but them is inside and yet Crowley hasn’t taken them off. He knows that Crowley likely would have taken them off when they’d settled down to talk about the stresses of their days but now he’s defensive, on edge. They’ll stay on. Aziraphale sips his cocoa.

 

“Regret what?” Crowley snaps, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, hesitation. 

 

“I think I more mean, do you ever find yourself wanting to go back?” 

 

“Back where? In time? Space?” 

 

Aziraphale shakes his head slightly and Crowley huffs. He’s still standing next to the books. Aziraphale isn’t used to the distance anymore, not since the almost-apocalypse. They’ve always, throughout the years, orbited each other without real intention. That just...improved since the race to find Adam and all that came after. Brushing shoulders. Knees bumping when they sit side by side. Standing with only a step or two between them when they talk. But now Crowley is over by the books and Aziraphale is setting his cocoa on his desk and wondering when he became such a bumbling idiot. This wasn’t going to end well but backing out now would only serve to anger Crowley more, would undoubtedly send him out the door. He’d only just arrived. 

 

“Back to before all this. Before the Arrangement or even meeting. Crowley, you-- we’re on our own now. You’re on your own because of me. That’s my fault and I just wonder if,” Aziraphale sighs a little, wringing his hands, “if you ever find yourself wanting to start again.”

 

Crowley doesn’t move. Aziraphale thinks maybe his eyes are watching his hands tie themselves in knots so he clasps his fingers self-consciously behind his back. He waits. He waits for Crowley to say something. To  _ do _ something. The demon before him is renowned for moving through life at a pace faster than any sane being, for making snap decisions and somehow making them all turn out alright but right  _ now _ ...right now he is frozen. Not even breathing, which, whilst unconcerning in the usual manner, Crowley once confessed he felt weird not breathing and tried hard to avoid stopping. Crowley shifts his weight to the right, one shoulder slouching, hands sliding into trouser pockets and a wicked grin stretching across his face. 

 

“Is this a test, angel?”

 

Aziraphale splutters and Crowley marches on. 

 

“Because, truly, after...how many years? Far more than anyone else can boast, I expect. After so long, you really think that I do things I don’t want to do?”

 

“Well, yes--”

 

Crowley shakes his head once, sharply. Aziraphale cuts himself off and listens. 

 

“To answer your question, no. No, I don’t want to go back to the days before good wine and cars and central heating. Do you?” Crowley steps forwards, stopping in front of Aziraphale who says a decidedly not shakey ‘no’. “Exactly. Neither do I. So, that begs the question, why are you asking?”

 

“I told you,” Aziraphale says somewhat huffily, “you’re on your own because--”

 

Crowley arches a brow, his sunglasses sliding down his nose as he looks condescendingly at Aziraphale. “Are you leaving then? Is that what this is?”

 

Aziraphale rolls his eyes and, in another moment of complete insanity, takes Crowley’s glasses, folding them and tucking them into the pocket of Crowley’s jacket. “Of course not, don’t be silly, Crowley.”

 

“Then I still don’t see--” 

 

“Could you let me finish, dear.”

 

“No!” Crowley’s eyes are wide, almost hinting at hysterical as he leans back to throw his arms in the air, spinning on the spot once as he speaks, waving at the bookstore around them. “No, Aziraphale! You’re being ridiculous! I’m here because I want to be and unless you’re leaving me, I’m hardly alone.”

 

Aziraphale opens his mouth. And closes it again. That was a good point. He hadn’t really taken himself into account other than as the catalyst for this whole fallout with Up Above and Down Below. Crowley’s breathing again, harsh exhales and sharp inhales as he drops his hands onto Aziraphale’s shoulders, forcing them to make eye contact this close. 

 

“Are you leaving me?” Crowley asks again, voice hard, serious. Aziraphale knows these eyes, knows that the movement from left to right, dropping lower every other second, is a sign that they’re on the edge. Their familiar edge, they’ve been here before. Maybe it’s time to brave the jump. “Angel,” Crowley emphasises every syllable, “are you leaving me?”

 

Aziraphale swallows, drawing himself up under Crowley’s grip, one hand coming up so he can gently wrap his fingers around Crowley’s wrist. Not pushing him away. Just staying. Settling. 

 

“Never, dear boy.”

 

Crowley’s hiss is one of relief matching the easing in Aziraphale’s own chest.

 

“Then I’m not alone,” Crowley whispers, smug, “and for the record, I chose to be on Our Side a long time ago. I chose it.”

 

“Us.”

 

Crowley frowns and Aziraphale squeezes his wrist, aiming for reassuring. 

 

“What?”

 

“Chose us. Chose this. Us.” Aziraphale repeats, thinking back to that night in the blitz, that same feeling; familiar before he’d even learned its name and here it was again, waves of it rolling off him to the point it was a surprise Crowley couldn’t feel it. 

 

“Aziraphale?”

 

“How about we stay in for dinner?” 

 

“No, what do you mean--”

 

“There’s a new recipe I’ve been thinking of trying, I’m sure you’ll--”

 

“--I’m not letting this go because of  _ dinner _ \--”

 

“--there’s some great wine I’ve got hidden away to go with it--”

 

Crowley growled, fingers digging into Aziraphale’s shoulders almost painfully before he let go, pushing himself back. Aziraphale couldn’t jumpstart himself to do anything but watch as Crowley stormed to the door, knocking over those books and catching them with a snap of his fingers. He stopped with a hand on the door handle just as Aziraphale managed to call out a weak ‘stop’.

 

“You either tell me what we’re doing,” Crowley snarled, pointing at Aziraphale with the hand not about to let him out into the wet street,”  _ right now _ , or I’m going back to the flat.”

 

He’d well and truly screwed this up. Momentously. 

 

“Crowley, I’m sorry. I was just...well, I was just... _ worried _ .”

 

“I can  _ see that _ . But you aren’t making any sense! Have I done something recently to- to make you think I’m upset? I’m sorry if I did!”

 

“No, Crowley, this is my fault. All my bad. I was being silly myself and…” Aziraphale trails off. 

 

Crowley’s fingers drop from the door. He takes a deep breath and drops his chin to his chest. 

 

“This isn’t how I thought this evening would go,” Crowley says to the floor. 

 

Aziraphale sighs. There’s no saving this now. Not really. It’ll just sink into one of those tiffs they have every year or so and they’ll spend a week or a month apart until one of them slinks back to the other and they pretend it didn’t really happen. 

 

“I don’t want to make you stay, my dear,” he says softly, “I understand if you’d rather eat dinner at home. We can uh... have a raincheck.”

 

There’s a deep sigh, almost another curtailed growl and then the bell above the door rings out. Aziraphale turns, he doesn’t need to watch to know he’ll be having dinner alone. Maybe he’ll just order in, if he can be bothered. He doesn’t actually need to eat… The cocoa on his desk is stone cold, half drunk. The wine he’d dug out in preparation for dinner sits behind the mug. A little dusty. It won’t mind waiting a while longer to be drank. He doesn’t hear the door close behind Crowley. Doesn’t hear the footsteps and the self-satisfied noise Crowley makes when he doesn’t hit the books this time. Doesn’t realise that he hasn’t been left alone until there’s a hand on his from arms wrapped around his middle and a forehead resting on his shoulder. 

 

“I’m not leaving either, angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Good Omens fic so any feedback on characterisation is especially welcome!!
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> Prompts welcome here and on my writing tumblr [WordToTheRose (Previously TheWordForest)](https://wordtotherose.tumblr.com/) or come say hi on my main [Guardian-Rose-Petal](https://guardian-rose-petal.tumblr.com/)


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